


Reflections

by JueJueBahn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal, Blowjobs, Bottom Oswald Cobblepot, Domestic, Edward Nygma's Origami Penguin, Escort Service, Fingering, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Jim Gordon Knows, M/M, Morning Sex, Murder, Nygmobblepot, Post canon, Riddlebird - Freeform, Top Edward Nygma, Torture, after s05, bad attempts at flirting, but just mentioned - Freeform, callboys, do not ask me how long it took me to come up with this riddle ok, ed has an oral fixation, ed's just having a jolly old time i guess, ed’s hair is a character of its own, erm ok i am getting lost in tags again, i am definitely more of still recovering from being frozen in a block of ice ed, i didn't even mean to write him like that it just happened, not six hours but y know, oh yeah just, olga has apparently been promoted from maid to pa, olga the real mvp, or bad days, oz is just having a bad day, probably?, riddles?, u know what I realised going over this fic again?, what else is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JueJueBahn/pseuds/JueJueBahn
Summary: Could this be a coincidence? He’s barely been out of Blackgate a few months; he’s been careful, after that first encounter with the bat, treading on thin ice, sure, but also covering all the tracks he’s left in the snow. If Jim Gordon was not lying and he was the only client the three had in common, it more than likely has something to do with him. But he hasn’t done anything to those boys, well, not anything they didn’t want him to do, or be happy to have done to them if the price was right anyway. So this leaves only one option: Someone is trying to frame him.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	1. Framed?

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 2021/03/12: yoohoo! to the peeps who are returning here for a second read, first of all heya there, love you <3  
> I read this over again and changed some things- nothing major, don't worry, basically just some editing here and there, fixing some mistakes I found and adding a few sentences in some places to make the read easier :)
> 
> yeah hi so I’m still alive :D  
> what can I say the twenties are a turbulent time. I’ve been wanting to get back to writing but it just wouldn’t happen… but with this whole errr C-word situation, a lotta things changed in my life- especially my timetable, so here I am tadah  
> maybe I’ll manage to keep writing, I really did miss it :/
> 
> also I was a bit tipsy when I wrote this and it is unbeta’d, so I guess if you find any mistakes, don’t be shy and point em out if that’s your thing :)
> 
> now this whole story grew from like a sidenote sentence in a fic I read, where there was a reference to Penguin getting boys for rent (not talking about children cheezuz calm ur tits, I mean in the callboy sense xDDD)  
> and that spiralled out of control with me thinking how he’s looking for guys who look like Ed and then how Ed might react when he finds out about the Ed substitutes and here we are~
> 
> let us pretend Oz didn’t attempt to murder Jim, cuz I have no brain cells to figure out how he could get that one off him rn
> 
> also trigger warnings at the end they were just too long to post at the beginning sry x_x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he’s done with his food Olga disrupts his plans for another well deserved “early” evening- or rather, a visitor does.  
> “Mister, police here to see you.”  
> Oswald almost chokes on the last sip of his wine. He does not have time to ask any questions because as soon as he gets control over his airways back, Jim Gordon is standing at the foot of his dining table. Just his luck these days.

Oswald has had a bad day. In fact, he’s had a couple of bad weeks.

Not because his plans were not going smoothly- with a little help from Plan B’s to Plan Z’s he had set up way before Gotham ever went to shit, and more recent acquaintances/alliances he has made in Blackgate, he’s right back to living in his old mansion, and he has been working on getting his bar back- the improved version of course: new location, bigger building, opening night just a few days away. All it took was a bit of money laundering, moving things from here to there, blackmailing the right people and getting rid of the wrong people. Old story written anew and the Iceberg Lounge will return to Gotham in more than its old glory.

No, Oswald is simply stressed because in order to make things go smoothly, he’s had long days, tiresome negotiations and a ridiculous amount of scheming done to avoid not only the GCPD from sniffing around, but also this new addition to Gotham’s madmen: a vigilante in a bat costume. Keeping all these prying eyes from interfering with his efforts to reclaim what’s rightfully his has been exhausting. Ever since returning to normal life after a decade of prison he has not met with a healthy sleep schedule, and his extraordinarily full calendar has also left him with little time for relaxation- a byproduct of all his business being that he’s lost all those prison pounds he had put on, although what could also have played a part in that might be his new and basically only form of stress relief.

Which is apparently unavailable to him tonight once again.

Attempting in vain to cool down the frustration that works its way up his throat, Oswald pinches the bridge of his nose and taps his fingers on the smooth black desk top in front of him. He's in his office and it's late, a long day finally behind him, and he thought he was going to be able to have some fun now, but it seems the universe hates him.

“What. Do. You. Mean. He’s _unavailable_?” he hisses at his phone, the blinking of the speaker light drumming against his closed eyelids like the rhythm of an oncoming migraine, or police lights.

“Well, uh, I’m truly sorry, Mr. P. The… well, I’m not exactly sure actually what is going on with the boy you requested, only my superior informed me-“

“Then get your superior on the line right now, you incompetent little…”

It is taking all of the willpower he has left not to scream at the phone, or rip it from its place and hurl it against the nearest wall.

“Uh, of course, Mr. P. One second, yes.”

Oswald leans back in his chair and puts his thumbs to his temples, digging in and trying to even his breath. He already has a feeling as to where this night is headed. A voice comes through the speaker that sounds more mature and experienced than the young secretary he has been talking to.

“Mr. P, this is Madame Trixie speaking, first of all let me assure you that your continued support of our little enterprise has-“

“Yes, yes yes, let us get to the point- I have asked your idiots of employees for 3 days now to get me a booking with Alex, a simple tiny little task, especially considering the agreement we had, no? Unless you are disappointed with the protection I provide you, along with all the other benefits we agreed on, for your sworn secrecy??”

“Of course we are very happy to have you as a continued client, Mr. P, all my employees know about the special service we agreed on, and I assure you-“

“Stop _assuring_ me and explain to me why it is so impossible for you to do your job and get Alex out here!!!” Oswald screams into the phone, punching the desk top with both his fists and feeling a vein twitch on his forehead. He could really use a breather right now.

The woman on the line clears her throat and he hears some paper rustling in the background.

“Yes, of course. I am sorry to inform you that we have not been able to get a hold of the particular boy you have requested for a few days now. This kind of thing happens from time to time, the boys in this business, well… while we do pride ourselves on sorting through their backgrounds thoroughly, some of them do stray from ti-“

“Alex is not like that” Oswald hisses, “Shouldn’t you know that, as his boss?”

“I… agree with you, Mr. P, I am merely stating that some of the boys, even the ones we least expect to, sometimes fall off the wagon.”

There is silence for a few seconds, in which Oswald tries to figure out whether to scream, cry, or hang up and call it a night before he develops gall stones over this. This is the second time in as many weeks that this has happened to him, maybe it just really is not his month.

“Now, as soon as we can allocate this boy you requested, of course, we will give you a call, but in the meantime, I could personally put together a file of alternatives you might be interested in, free of charge naturally, since we are so grateful for your continued generosity and-“

“Fine! Sure. Now you have…” Oswald tries once again to slow his breathing down, “You have my preferences. I expect that file by tomorrow, and if- _if_ I do find someone that pleases me, I expect them to be available tomorrow evening, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. P, once again I apologise for your inconvenience and I will personally make sure that whoever is to your liking will be free for you-“

“For your sake, I sure hope so” he bites out and presses the button to hang up.

Then he leans forward and bumps his forehead against the desk a few times, grumbling to himself. This cannot be happening. The only form of 'chickens', as Sofia Falcone had called it, he has found to be working these days is failing him- and only due to circumstances. He’s had Alex over twice these last weeks, and he’s come to like the boy. Unlike some of the other men Oswald had been sent from that particular escort agency, Alex has been able to hold a polite conversation. He has not tried to be overly flirty or get down to business as soon as he stepped foot into Oswald’s home, a flaw for which he has been known to send some of the men right back to the agency from his doorway. He has a very specific idea of what he needs these boys to be, and it won’t do to fail him from the get go.

Which is why it is so crucial to him that when he does find someone who fits his imagination, he is able to have the repeat experience. What won’t do, is having two of his favourites disappear on him in a matter of weeks. From two different agencies not to mention.

Moping about it won’t help his predicament though, so he pulls himself together and calls it a night- his exhaustion is taking a toll on him after all and if he is not going to get laid in the next few hours, the least he can do is catch up on some of the sleep he has been lacking.

~~~

The next day is all about rummaging through paperwork, making calls for the upcoming opening and putting his signature on this and that. It is actually nice to not have to leave the mansion for a secret meetup, or a threat camouflaged in a friendly public house call- by dinner he has Olga’s hearty rustic cooking and a tablet showing Madame Trixie’s recommendations in front of him on the great dining table, and he is already annoyed just sifting though the pictures of the boys.

It seems he has depleted the pool of relevant candidates in this agency, and it bothers him to have to even think about finding another- not as if Gotham is full of gay escort services, especially the high end ones he prefers. Setting all these dates up to be kept secret is not exactly an easy thing either and it involves a hefty sum of bribing as well as intimidation, which he feels is only fair since he would be a loyal customer if the boys would stop disappearing on him.

When he’s done with his food, he’s sent Madame Trixie a not too kind “Not interested” mail and is ready for a bath and several shots of good whiskey, but Olga disrupts his plans for a well deserved “early” evening, or rather, a visitor does.

“Mister, police here to see you.”

Oswald almost chokes on the last sip of his wine. He does not have time to ask any questions because as soon as he gets control over his airways back, Jim Gordon is standing at the foot of his dining table. Just his luck these days.

“Jim” would be a spit, if it weren’t softened by the napkin covering his lips.

“Oswald.”

Jim looks as tired as Oswald feels, with big circles under his eyes and a rumpled two-piece that suits his profession much more than the cheap yet clean suits he used to be seen in. It seems as though he is trying out that moustache once again, a few days of stubble only above his upper lip, not around his chin.

“The commissioner himself” Oswald drawls, sarcasm hanging low between them, only broken by Jim’s hawk like gaze, focused on every move his opposite makes, “Whatever can I do for you on this fine evening?”

This is just what Oswald needed, another annoyance on his already full plate. If only he could shoot Jim right then and there, make one of his miseries disappear, and with his own hands as well.

“Just some questions I hoped you could answer for me” Jim says in that matter-of-fact, straight-to-the-point way of his, and lifts up some papers he’s brought with him.

“Of course. And here I thought this was a social visit.”

Intrigue is the least of what Oswald is feeling as Jim Gordon interrupts his grumpy solitude. He’s had too many nights worrying and scheming to keep the GCPD out of his business, and he knows he has no fuck up hiding in his accounts or legalities, so all he feels is weariness at having to play nice with one of his mortal enemies- the man responsible for putting him in a prison cell for years, after all he’s done for this city, and Jim in particular.

Jim doesn’t sit, but stalks around the table until he is at the seat right next to Oswald, where he drops the papers by Oswald’s plate, eyes never leaving the Penguin’s. Oswald stares right back, so he only sees the files from his peripheral- a photo on top.

“You ever heard the name Vincent Ricci?”

“I can’t say that I have, no.”

Jim pulls a face like he expected that answer and goes on nonchalantly.

“Went by the name of Pedro in certain circles.”

Oswald feels his eye twitch and is instantly mad at himself because he sees in Jim’s that the policeman noticed. When Jim pulls the first sheet off the pile of documents it reveals another photo of a different young man.

“How about Daniel Anderson? Ring a bell?”

“Sorry to say it doesn’t, no.”

Jim, still staring into his eyes, taps the photo and goes on.

“Maybe you’ve _seen_ him. He was called Dan.”

Oswald feels his hands ball to fists underneath the tabletop. He's confused and enraged at the same time and Jim's presence only serves to amplify those feelings.

“Never seen him in my life” he says after a glance at the photo and smiles broadly up at Jim.

Of course he has. Dan was the last man except for himself who had lain in his bed, just a few days ago.

Jim narrows his eyes and just keeps watching him. His hand removes the photo and another well known face appears on the one below.

“David Conroy? Or Alex?”

“Are you going to explain why you've come barging into my home showing me pictures of men I don’t know?” Oswald snaps and it doesn't escape himself how defensive it makes him look when he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He wants Jim out of here, now, so he can think about what the hell is going on by himself.

Jim nods and picks up the files, holds them in front of Oswalds face as if they were in an interrogation room. So dramatic, this one.

“Let me tell you a few similarities these three men share” he says and Oswald feels his upper lip turning into a snarl because he hates being put on the spot, especially by Jim Gordon.

“All three are missing. They’re all associated with male escort services, and a little birdie told me the one client all three had in common was a mysterious Mr. P, real important guy apparently. Important enough to make people quiet.”

“Quiet enough so that the GCPD has to lean on leads from little birdies?” Oswald seethes, “I wonder how that holds up in court.”

Jim smirks.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

It takes all Oswald has not to grab the steak knife right in front of him and ram it into Jim’s eye socket.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but I have no idea what happened to those men” he tries one last time, seething quietly.

“Mhm.”

It is always a palpable relief when this one stops staring at you, Oswald muses as Jim makes to leave. And just when Oswald thinks he's got him out of his hair for now, Jim stops at the dining room door. He turns around halfway and his expression is almost compassionate, as much as Jim Gordon is capable of looking at him that way.

“These three missing boys” he says and catches Oswald’s gaze once more “they all look pretty much alike, don’t they?”

Oswald swallows against the lump in his throat and wonders if the heat in his face means he’s turning red. Instinctively defiant, he holds Jim's gaze through his shame.

“I swear to you if one more boy of this type goes missing, I will be right back here, with the full force of the GCPD and a warrant.”

As much as Oswald wants to proclaim his innocence once more, he knows it to be useless, and it has always been his nature to go petulant.

“Bring it on.”

When he is alone again, he leans his head on his hands and ponders. Could this be a coincidence? He’s barely been out of Blackgate a few months; he’s been careful, after that first encounter with the bat, treading on thin ice, sure, but also covering all the tracks he's left in the snow. If Jim Gordon was not lying and he was the only client the three had in common, it more than likely has something to do with him. But he hasn't done anything to those boys, well, not anything they didn’t want him to do or be happy to have done to them if the price was right anyway. So this leaves only one option: Someone is trying to frame him.


	2. All the Things We've Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And this” Olga says and for some reason she is able to put more sass into two words than even Oswald could. She drops a green envelope on top of the heap. There is no address written on it, only a big, purple handwritten question mark. Oswald feels like the world slows down around him as his stomach drops. He already has an idea where this is going and it isn't a happy place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohgawd this chapter ran away with me, sry but this fic turned out longer than i'd initially planned, so i split the rest of the story and turned them into two chaps; not done with the last one yet, but at least you get this xD  
> it turned out kinda dark, but i swear the next chapter will be more light hearted, especially cuz ed can be an absolute idiot. get urself together, ed.  
> so yeah no smut yet sry xD

A very restless night means Oswald is already more than irritated when he sits down for breakfast, and he’s not sure how he can go about his business all day when what is mostly on his mind is who the hell wants him back in prison and why. Well, there are actually quite some candidates there, but of all the people with grudges against him he has no idea who could be behind this. At the moment, everyone who is free and able to attack him like this has been paid off or would have more to lose than to gain from any ploy to cause him harm.

He’s brooding over this with a cup of coffee when Olga comes in with his mail. She dumps a few letters next to his breakfast and nods as he thanks her.

“And this” she says and for some reason she is able to put more sass into two words than even Oswald could. She drops a green envelope on top of the heap. There is no address written on it, only a big, purple handwritten question mark. Oswald feels like the world slows down around him as his stomach drops. He already has an idea where this is going and it isn't a happy place.

As soon as he gets control over himself he clears his throat.

“Olga. Cancel all the meetings I had planned for today.”

“I think so, yes.”

She walks away with his empty plate and Oswald sits for a while, just staring at the damned thing. Edward. Now. Edward who is not supposed to contact him, unless there’s an emergency. What convenient timing- too convenient. And he _knows_ \- oh there might as well have been a note on the envelope saying “I sent you a clue, because you haven’t figured it out on your own yet”.

Betrayal is a very harsh thing to face- especially from someone you thought you’d been over these sorts of notions with. Oswald has thought they were on good terms now, but perhaps he has been too naive with Edward once more. Is the man still harbouring such ill will against him?

Tentatively he opens the letter, all but hesitating. Will this be how their story ends? Because he already knows he will have to settle this- today. And it feels as if he should have known, almost feels like fate, that they should find themselves foes once more, that of course Ed was behind this.

The envelope unfolds into a card with a few lines, scribbled in what he knows to be Ed’s hand.

 _I am one of seven siblings,  
_ _Who are said to be the worst.  
_ _I turn off men’s heads and hearts,  
_ _Corrupt both mind and body.  
_ _I feed you when you’re hungry,_  
 _But can never quench your thirst.  
_ _What am I?_

To any outward onlooker Oswald might seem calm as he refolds the letter and places it back on the stack, but on the inside he is having more than just a fit. So the one person he had finally thought he could trust is out to get him. And he doesn’t even have to think twice about why. There is so much history between the two of them, it would be easier to just pick a reason. Or maybe Ed has just lost it after all and has no need for any sort of camaraderie or alliance anymore. It still stings.

Before Olga even comes back to clean the table, Oswald is already back in his room and getting dressed. He packs an extra knife in his leg brace and a gun in his belt, and feels the need to be just a tad sentimental about the occasion, putting on an old suit that Ed had picked out for him during his run for mayor, a dark grey three-piece with subtle black pinstripes. He wonders how Olga managed to keep it, but also at the fact that he fits into it once more.

The house is quiet when he comes down, and he quickly gets one of his goons to start up the car, picks that wonderful umbrella with a hidden shotgun inside (the irony that Ed has designed it is not lost on him)- there’s no need to make any more precautions than that, should this end tonight, it might as well end with his life. He won’t be going back to Blackgate because of Ed _fucking_ Nygma.

There is an conspicuously inconspicuous shabby car at the corner of the driveway that follows them all the way into the city, and Oswald cannot keep himself from looking out the car window at the rooftops, feeling like the bat might swoop down on them any moment now, but except for his own impatience to be done with this matter, nothing else happens on the drive to one of the restaurants he now owns. Losing the police tail is as easy as walking through the establishment, out the back and into another waiting car and he’s off again to the industrial district, the cityscape of shops and stalls and raggedy building complexes soon yielding to long low factory buildings and towering chimneys.

No bat yet. He has other problems to deal with today anyway.

His goal is an old high rise at the edge of the district- near the Indian Hills dumping ground funnily enough- that is not quite abandoned, but houses a few barely liveable apartments and a diner on the ground floor, and of course the three top floors which are Ed’s to use as he pleases. Yet no one but the two of them knows this.

He’s weary as he gets out of the car and tells the driver to wait a few blocks away until he calls upon him again. There’s no telling as to what Ed has been up to down here, they haven’t seen each other since that faithful bat encounter. Any other contact has been over an encrypted email service and even those brief and distant by now. For all Oswald knows he could be walking into a bomb.

He steps into the old service elevator at the back anyway and is glad to find Ed has not changed the passcode to get to his living space- no going further without the stairs but Oswald has not been here since he found the place for Ed, so he does not have the slightest clue about what Ed might be hiding or building on the upper floors, not that he really cares at this point. His mind is set on the issues hanging between them. For some reason his bad eye hurts.

When he arrives up top and pulls the elevator grate aside he sees Ed’s door left a few inches ajar. Always the pessimist, it feels like a bad sign to him, but then again, Ed must have expected him after sending him that letter- which doesn’t mean he won’t still be walking straight into a trap.

He slowly makes his way through the door and the hallway. Ed’s apartment actually looks just like he would have imagined- pretty much like his old one, the one he thinks back on with fond memories, all bare brick walls and apothecary cabinets lining the walls, an old piano, neon signs next to cuckoo clocks. All very industrial and jumbled, kind of chaotic to anyone except Ed, who he knows to be an organised person, so he figures it's probably just a form of 'order' that makes sense to Ed, but no one else. There’s an open book with graphs and equations on the table by the kitchenette and he can hear Ed humming a tune from an adjoining room. When it comes down to it, he’s just glad he hasn’t stepped into some sort of deathtrap, or been sprinkled with glitter by a weird contraption sure to be hiding in the dark corners of The Riddler’s lair.

For a second he wants to call out the other’s name, but instead of making himself known, he stalks carefully toward Ed’s voice and hopes he won’t trip on a wire or worse. He finds Ed in the next room, a sort of library he supposes, shelves stacked with books on either side and a desk crammed between them, also loaded with books and piles of paper. Ed is sitting at it and mumbling a tune as he’s quickly scribbling away at a sudoku pad.

The moment he comes into view, Ed raises his head and Oswald draws his gun. Ed gives him his signature broad smile. The fake one. The suit he has on looks like he has worn it for several days without changing out of it, and his hair is a bit dishevelled- not the worst Oswald has seen him, but certainly on the way there.

“Oswald. Did you solve my riddle?”

It's more than enough acknowledgment of the brunette having been expecting him. Oswald breathes deep for a second, trying to hold down his rage. He knows he’s being played, but he wants to know what Edward’s angle is before this ends.

“Is it ‘alcohol’?” he drawls sarcastically, pulling a smirk at the man and trying not to lose his focus in Edward’s intent stare.

“Haha. Very funny” Edward says and his smile has drooped into a tight grimace, the way he always looks when someone does not take his riddles seriously. He does not seem to mind the gun pointed at him though.

“What did you do to them?” Oswald hears himself say, kind of surprised that this is his opening line, he was thinking more along the ways of “how could you”, or “why now”.

Ed’s smile turns into a smirk and damn if it doesn’t do something to Oswald’s chest still, some old ache that irks him like his bad leg, acting up now and again and reminding him that there is still a part of him that yearns to see that sort of diabolical amusement on Ed’s features. As if he did not still find it as attractive as a siren’s song.

“Well” Ed starts and puts his fingertips together in front of him, leaning his elbows on the desk, “If you’re referring to your favourite callboys- I had a little fun with them.”

It’t not even a conscious thought, just the natural reaction to the phrases Ed has used- Oswald’s brain freezing somewhere along the lines of _fun with callboys_ with a hot jealous rage that he knows is uncalled for, especially because they were _his_ callboys.

Ed, of course, notices his inner struggle and pulls a face at him like a teacher berating a bad child.

“Tsk tsk, Oswald. Not what you’re thinking of.”

He unfolds his hands and runs them along the desk top, tapping his fingers almost as if he were playing the piano, and stares off for a second, recalling what seems like a fond memory.

“No, I tortured them.”

It is still surprising Oswald how he could have that adoration mixed perfectly together with a feeling of absolute dread- it is almost like being sick from too much good whiskey, spewing your guts while riding a nice high.

“Do you care for the details?”

“No, thank you.”

“Although I must say: Dan seemed to enjoy it at the start, what a naughty boy” Ed chuckles, staring right into the nuzzle of Oswald’s gun, “Won’t you put that down?”

Strangely enough, Oswald does. He still keeps his finger on the trigger though. He wants to say something, but he’s not quite sure yet where to start, and Ed seems to be on a roll, all crazed eyes and jumpy body language, so he just lets him continue.

“Dan was a tough one too, wouldn’t say a peep. Kept going on and on about how his fate would be worse if he told me any little tidbit about this crime boss who had paid for him” Ed muses, and it’s frightening how it suddenly hits Oswald- he didn’t care about those boys, not really, but it is strangely off putting to imagine them getting hurt. He wonders, not for the first time in his life, if this is normal, or if it is just him being too emotional about everything. At the same time he wants to smack Edward over the head with his gun.

“Now Pedro- Pedro was a talker. He would go into the raunchiest little details of what you two have been up to. Smart one too- he solved three of my five riddles.”

At this point Oswald really feels sick.

“I thought it was your thing to ask three” comes out of him unwillingly, as he fights to get himself under control. The realisation that Ed has any sort of specific information about his private sexual encounters is mortifying in itself, but coupled with the embarrassing fact that he has been living out fantasies about _Ed in particular_ with these boys, the shame is making him dizzy. All the while he keeps thinking that this is how it ends, how fitting, his unquenchable thirst for Ed is what does him in at the end.

“I made an exception for Pedro” Ed says happily and then his eyes glaze over with an emotion Oswald cannot place, “He also told me… he was your first. And you still called on him from time to time. Shame about Pedro really, he honestly was such a smart little cookie. Might still be alive in there, who knows how long he can hold out without food or water… or regulated air supply.”

Ed gives a low laugh and puts up his hands as if in surrender or like a comic going “whoopsie”.

“What did you do to him?”

“I buried him. Well, not all of him, some parts of him I cut off and burned.”

Oswald nods and looks at the floor for a second. It really is strange how sleeping with someone makes you just that bit more empathetic to their suffering. It’s not as if he is per se broken about these boys’ deaths, but it does fill him with an unfamiliar sorrow, knowing that these people he has had good times and fun with have been put through such agony.

“What about Alex?”

Just a day before he had thought he would be seeing Alex again soon. He wonders if the man had been dead already at that time.

“Oh, he’s definitely dead” Ed agrees and gets up from the desk.

Oswald wants to raise his gun again, but after the initial embarrassment fades into a disgraceful background ache he shelves for later, he feels strangely numb. Numb and confused as to how he found himself in this situation. It is undeniable that he is still hopelessly infatuated with Edward, and it should maybe shock him that this homicidal behaviour does nothing to change his emotions, but then again he has never been a wilting flower in the face of the brutality that this path he chose for himself brings with it. And it's not as if he has never killed somebody just for the hell of it.

“I don’t understand” he starts, painfully aware of how close Edward is getting as he walks around his desk, “Why you’re doing this to me.”

He looks up and sees Edward blink, actually surprised at this. Edward opens his mouth, then shuts it again and falls back, leaning against the back of his desk and crossing his arms almost as if in thought, but still staring at Oswald.

“I thought we were good” Oswald continues, “I thought we had all this animosity behind us- I even helped you get this place, and hide fro-“

“You think I’m mad at you?” Edward asks with one of those dramatic gestures of his, pointing at his chest, then Oswald, “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why would you frame me for murder?”

He cannot help it, it comes out as a shout, and he’s more aware of himself now, his body standing in the doorway with a gun in his hand. He will shoot Edward if he comes any closer, he will.

Edward blinks at him again.

“I did not try to frame you, Oswald” he says slowly, putting his palms up, then apparently realising something, and lowering his hands again, “Although I do see… how this might cast a shadow on you.”

“You think???” Oswald seethes.

He wonders if it is really him who is dumb enough to still be played here, or if the thought of how this little murder spree of his might affect Oswald’s reputation honestly had only just crossed this idiot’s mind. Oswald’s body is vibrating with nerves and even the frankly dumb look on Edward’s face is just adding to the jitters of rage that urge him to take every single book in the room and just smash it across the desk, the walls, Edward’s head, or whatever else too close to him.

“I am literally on Jim Gordon’s blacklist right now!”

Edward apparently does not even notice Oswald as he tries to catch his breath and attempt not to murder him right there and then, but it is this apathy of Ed’s that eventually calms Oswald down enough to simply feeling tired.

He had expected some sort of showdown, but this feels wrong and finally almost petty- because Ed is still in that thoughtful state and Oswald wonders what he has missed, which memo he didn’t get, because apparently he has been going off Ed’s script and it doesn’t seem as if he can get his opponent back on track.

So he does the only thing he can think of and retreats.

“Well this has been awfully nice, but I have business to take care of” he quips, hearing himself lack his usual dapper and charm, “Mainly dancing around Gordon, thanks to you.”

Ed just hums in acknowledgment, doesn’t move as Oswald makes his way back out the apartment and down the elevator. Silence falls like a cloud around him, he doesn't register the sounds of machinery around him, not the noises from the street, and he gets hung up again on the mere fact that _it's Ed_ \- but in the end it's always Ed, isn't it?

He calls his guy and half an hour later he is back at the restaurant where he left his first car and the driver. It is almost midday, so he decides to have lunch there and tries to figure out what to do with his free afternoon. Decidedly too wound up to make any business arrangements, he lets himself enjoy a good wine with his early lunch- frankly what he really wants to do is down the whole bottle, but he seems to have some of his sanity left and has only a glass, then espresso.

He orders one of his men to get some flowers from the shop across the road and makes the cemetery his next stop. It doesn’t even irk him as much as it should, when the policemen watch him from next to their car, one of them lighting a cigarette, the other talking on his phone. Actually, he thinks it kind of funny, his own guys mirroring that same position just a few paces off. He’s always thought there wasn’t much of a difference between them and the police- at least not in Gotham. His mother hated the police. By the time he’s reached her grave his leg has begun to ache and he leans heavily on his umbrella. He feels old and weary somehow.

The flowers are laid at the headstone and for a second he wonders how things would be were she still alive. Ed had told him once that he was stronger without her, maybe he was right- at the very least he doesn’t have to run around hiding things from her and lying to her anymore. She’d always been so proud of him anyway, but never of the things he’d done. And there were a lot of things she never knew about.

“Well, mother, you were wrong about the hussies, but you were right about the dangers of love” he mumbles, always feels kind of strange to him to be speaking to a block of stone. For a while he wonders where Ed has buried the bodies and, _oh God,_ if Pedro is still alive. He spends more time than he realises just brooding there, standing in the cold with his leg pulsating.

When he leaves the cemetery the sun is low and he feels like a coward on the ride back home- he should have shot Edward right there, actually he should have stabbed him when he had the chance, wouldn’t even have minded dying along with him back then, a decade ago, when they both had knives pointed at each other’s backs. How sentimental of him to still hold on to these feelings he has for the other man, even with everything that has happened between them. He still loves Edward too much- maybe not too much not to kill him, but certainly too much to not hesitate and hope for a better outcome until he can be absolutely sure there is no other way.

The police car stops at the gates to Oswald’s estate and when he exits his own car by the front door, the guy on guard duty comes hurrying towards him, wiping some sweat off his forehead with a dirty looking handkerchief.

“Uh, boss, there’s… uhm, you have a visitor.”

Oswald closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I swear if you tell me it’s Jim Gordon I’m going to have to stab you.”

“Is green man” Olga says from the doorway. For what feels like the 100th time today, Oswald’s stomach drops at her words. Olga crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Mhm.”

“What, why-…”

“I get you gin? Green man wants gin, I tell him, wait for you.”

“What?”

“Looks so shabby, used to look so nice always…”

Oswald interrupts her with a gesture and tries to get his brain to turn back on again. Alright, so he will have to deal with this today after all.

“Should we get rid of him, boss?”

“No. No, you just… stay here, it’s fine” he tells the guard, who wipes his forehead again, and looks relieved as he nods.

“Gin will be fine, Olga, thank you.”

“Parlor room” she adds and is off to the kitchen.

Oswald steels himself as he takes off his coat and gloves. He still feels the chill from the cemetery deep in his bones. He finds Ed, marching frantically to and fro between the window and the sofa, a finger tapping against his lips in thought.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oswald hisses and Ed actually jumps as if he hadn’t noticed him come in.

They stare at each other for a second, then Ed clears his throat and visibly pulls himself together.

“Finishing our conversation” he says.


	3. Somebody Else a.k.a Why U so Obsessed With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, I realise now how my actions have put you in a tight spot, nonetheless that was neither my intention, nor will it be a problem from here on out” Ed says and smiles assuringly.  
> “How will Jim Gordon thinking I killed three people not be a problem for me??”  
> “Because no one will find their bodies, and therefore: no proof of a crime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see by the title i am already veering off into crack territory xD  
> well it ain’t crack, but it is ridiculous- oh wow this conversation got long, but hey it’s so much fun to write stupid conversations, and these boys be stoopid.  
> don’t you have that very specific way actors talk when they’re in character stuck in your head when u write? it’s hard to put down in writing, but fun to try :)  
> also- ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my world, even this sex scene got so long what is happening, but yeah that’s also why it took me so long to write sry

“Hmmm, our… _conversation_ , yes.”

Oswald’s throat is tight with frustration, and Ed puts his hands up in a calming gesture, immediately noticing his affront.

“Now, please. Calm down, Oswald, I have no mind to harm you.”

“That… is the least of my problems at the moment, actually. And whether or not you intended to, you did harm me. A fucking lot.”

There is a twitch above Oswald’s bad eye and he wonders how much agitation it takes to make someone have a heart attack. He doesn’t even know where to begin listing his problems, but it seems most of them have something to do with Ed.

“Yes, I realise now how my actions have put you in a tight spot, nonetheless that was neither my intention, nor will it be a problem from here on out” Ed says and smiles assuringly.

“How will Jim Gordon thinking I killed three people not be a problem for me??”

“Because no one will find their bodies, and therefore: no proof of a crime.”

Oswald wants to bash his head in with whatever heavy object he can grab first.

“And how does that change the fact that you ran around killing people close to me- for no reason apparently, if your plan never was to make me look like the killer?”

“Ha! Well” Edward laughs nervously. He looks worse than this morning, kind of manic- still without his bowler, hair sticking up in odd places, and falling all the way into his eyes.

“There was a reason, wasn’t there- because you paid them to sleep with you.”

“It is none of your business who I sleep with!” Oswald shouts and fights very hard not to throw the vase next to him at Edward.

“Well, I mean, it _is_ since they are all… me-lookalikes.”

There is a second in which Oswald is working up to a wordless scream, but he is interrupted by Olga, who comes in with two glasses and a bottle. She sets everything down on the couch table and then plants herself in front of Oswald, fishes a case out of the pocket in her apron, opens it and hands him a cigarillo. Bless her fucking heart.

“Thank you” he says, already calmer, if not by much. She nods and lights it for him, then leaves again. With the first drag of smoke in his lungs, he feels a little of his clarity return. Ed is standing next to the window, almost comically frozen in his last placating gesture.

“What are you even doing here, are you out of your mind? You are a fucking fugitive and that car down the street is police surveillance that Gordon has set on me!”

“Yes, well. No one saw me come here, I made sure of that” Edward says, trying to put the matter down with a gesture of unimportance.

“What about that goddamn Batman?”

“ _No one saw me_. I was careful, I am not that incapable, Oswald. And I didn’t do anything.”

“You _killed three people_!” Oswald shouts, set off by the statement and determined not to let Ed brush this off.

Ed keeps a smile tightly set on his face and walks over to pour himself a glass of gin, fills the second one for Oswald as well. Always the fucking gentleman.

“You cared for them that much?”

“Oh, please. They were just doing their job, they didn’t do anything wrong- you did this to _hurt me_. But I still don’t understand why exactly.”

Oswald takes another few drags and lets Ed stand there awkwardly, glass in hand as if waiting for a toast. They have a little stare-down and the brunette seems to finally decide against manners and just takes a sip.

“Hurt might be a strong word” Ed starts and Oswald scoffs at him, “I admit, I was a bit upset, when I found out-“

“Yeah, let’s go there- how and why did you even decide to stir around in my private life like that?”

“Oswald, please. We may be friends, but this is Gotham- it always pays off to know as much as possible about anyone” Ed rambles quickly, then takes another sip as Oswald begrudgingly gives him this point and finally takes the second glass. He probably needs as much alcohol as he can get for this conversation.

“So, yes, it made me uncomfortable- finding out that you have developed a habit of having sexual relations with my doppelgängers.”

Ed is using his hands so much a swell of gin flops out of his glass and onto Oswald’s carpet. When he notices Oswald stare at the spot with that twitch of his eye returning, he calmly sits down on the sofa and continues.

“You know how weird it was to kill them? Well, at first anyway- then that was also kinda therapeutic, almost” he drifts off, eyes unfocused for a second as if pondering something private.

“You. Really are…” Oswald doesn’t know how to continue, so he focuses on his drink and his smoke, “That is so not the point-“

Edward’s face darkens slightly as he's pulled out of his reverie, even as he leans back on the couch and has the audacity to look like he just belongs there, sprawled on Oswald’s furniture like a friend or worse.

“I don’t see how you can be so outraged about this anyway- need I remind you that you killed the last person _I_ have been intimate with, if we forget about Lee, not my finest hour anyway, since she was just stringing me along-“

“Yes, because I! _Loved_! You!” Oswald seethes, feeling himself spill probably just as much gin, because his hands are shaking with the way all the muscles in his body tense up.

“Don’t you mean _love_ , present tense? You are literally picking your partners based on their likeness to me.”

Edward sounds superior, almost smug, and Oswald can relate to the feeling of knowing you have something to hold over your opponent’s head- and it makes him shake even harder, the frustration of not having the upper hand.

“Well congratulations, now you know how it feels and why I had that damned Isabelle killed” Oswald murmurs and takes a big gulp of gin.

“Isabell-a! Still!” Ed shouts, then gets himself under some semblance of control, “And that was different, I loved her!”

“Exactly! That was worse!”

Oswald feels all excited and hyper-aware, but he’s also slowly getting tired of the discussion. This roller-coaster of shame and fury and guilt is taking more energy out of him than he has left, and he really wants to give up on this nonsensical back and forth. Maybe it’s the alcohol, he thinks, but then it suddenly hits him and he grows alert and clear-minded. _It was worse_ \- the memory of how he felt when Ed was getting close to Isabella. He’s had this whole game all wrong.

“Oh. My God” he hears himself say and he doesn’t really believe it himself “You like me.”

Ed scoffs the way he does when he thinks someone is stating the obvious and takes another sip of his gin.

“Well, I think we have established on several occasions where we’ve landed on our sympathy scale-“ he starts but Oswald is onto something and he’s always liked that feeling- like a shark smelling blood, there’s no stopping him now, certainly not in this matter.

“No. No, no, no, you _like_ me. On the fucking romance scale.”

Edward makes that out of breath “eh” sound that is not quite a scoff, the one that means he doesn’t know what to say, and it is like music to Oswald’s ears. The tables have turned, he can feel it in the air, and he soaks it up as he takes a last drag of his cigarillo, then discards it on the ashtray by the door. He feels lighter already, just from the notion of one-upping Edward, and he hasn’t even let himself think of all the implications of his revelation yet.

“What” Ed starts awkwardly, stammering as he continues, “No, w-we, we’ve also gone through tha-“

“Yes, I know, that was before you _killed all the people I slept with_. You never once wrecked that pretty little mind of yours on _why_ exactly you did that?”

The look Edward shoots him is deadly, and it only serves to reflect on his own mood as Oswald feels a grin come on. He bites it down for now, because he needs to focus on winning this argument.

“Because! They’re _me_! It makes me _uncomfortable_!”

“And you’ve never given any thought as to _why_ that makes you uncomfortable?”

Just moments ago Oswald was agitated with shame and embarrassment, just simply Ed knowing what he has been up to was enough to make him want to crawl into his bed and hide away forever under his blanket, and now he feels himself preening. Ed is leaning forward now, looking ready to pounce off the sofa and strangle him.

“Because they look like me isn’t enough?”

“Nnnno,” Oswald cackles, finally enjoying himself for the first time in days and points his glass at Ed, “You’re jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of your sex life, aside from me not having one at the moment” Edward hisses, almost tripping over his own words at the speed he’s talking.

“Mhm, yeah” Oswald fake-muses, leaning against the side table the ashtray sits on and staring around the room as he nods, feigning understanding, “Then tell me, how is you _killing_ the people I _sleep_ with not jealousy?”

He’s rolling on a high right now, he knows- mainly because it’s been a while, this good old fashioned feeling of winning, of having someone by the balls. In a way it’s even more delicious that Ed doesn’t realise this himself yet, that he’s the one to make him see just how wrong he’s been about his own reasoning.

“That, the, that… This is absurd, Oswald” Ed starts, downing his gin as if it might help him find a trail of thought.

Oh, this is perfect. Now it’s only a question of making Ed understand this- he knows he’s right, this can’t be just Ed’s boredom or him being jealous of the simple fact that Oswald has intimate affairs while he himself does not. No, this is something deeper and darker and Oswald feels foolish for not having realised sooner, but then again he has spent years banishing the notion that Ed might ever reciprocate any sort of emotions like that from his mind.

“ _You_! Are simply _projecting_ your own… love-crazed fantasies on this scenario” Ed says and gestures chaotically.

Oswald huffs, offended because anything this close to the truth always hurts the most.

“Are? You? _Crazy_?” he shouts, and yes, he knows, he gets emotional way too quickly.

“I take offense to that. Especially with my recent bout at Arkham” Ed says and sits up, straightening out his jacket, all proper body language as opposed to the shambled appearance his look gives.

“I’ve been the-“ Oswald breaks off with a huff and pulls himself together. “Okay, let me lay this down real simple for you: You want to be with me in a romantic way.”

Edward scoffs, crosses his arms and looks to the far side of the room.

“Oswald, we’ve been there befor-“

“Alright, you absolute _idiot_ , here’s a goddamn riddle for you” Oswald says in a low, almost menacing tone. Of all the smart-asses in the world, he had to fall for the most dense of them all. Maybe it serves them right that it took them almost 15 years to get to this point and even now it is as tiresome as pulling teeth.

“What is usually the reason people feel jealousy? Not envy, jealousy. This kind of jealousy, jealousy about intimacy.”

Ed furrows his brows and tilts his head back, still looking petulant, but almost as if he’s close to taking Oswald’s bait now, like he might slowly be considering being wrong about this.

“No, I am- if anything I am jealous of what you have, you-“ he’s babbling, and his voice is quieter now, not as steady as before.

“Are you kidding me!” Oswald hisses angrily, because he’s impatient and it shouldn’t be _this_ difficult. “When someone does not like someone to have intimate relations with someone else, it’s usually because that someone wants to be the someone who has those relations with that someone!”

Ed blinks at him a few times, shaking his head.

“So many someones” he drawls and pulls a petty smile.

“Fine” Oswald says, downs his drink and puts the glass down with almost enough force to break it, “You hate me being with people so much, what do you want me to do then?”

“Aaah-I don’t _want_ you to do anything” Ed says, looking confused and crazed once more.

“Except you want me to stop sleeping with anyone.”

Ed pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger, frowning.

“Well, I…”

“Anyone else” Oswald continues, watching intently as Ed slowly throws him a glare.

“But you.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then finally Edward blinks and runs his palms up and down his thighs nervously.

“What” Edward laughs, sounding desperate and almost pathetic, “No I-“

“You are an idiot” Oswald says without bite, just a state of facts, and finally he lets himself feel a little giddy at the fact that this idiot is most definitely in love with him.

“Excuse me?” Ed growls, truly offended now, and it’s always been nice to one-up him but it's especially gratifying that after all he’s done the last couple of days, it’s finally Oswald’s turn to get back at him.

“You know, you can be the most obtuse person-“

“Now that is just really uncalled for.”

Ed is still as a statue, all rage and whatever else concentrated solely on Oswald and he has to admit, he’s enjoying bathing in all that attention, always has probably- even back when Ed was simply trying to kill him. Alas, it’s time to end this, whatever way it will end.

“Fine then, I’ll just find someone new! You know what, as soon as you leave actually! You don’t like them looking like you- alright, I’ll just find someone who looks different!”

Oswald is walking up and down in front of the doorway, rambling on.

“You won’t have a problem with that, will you? Because if you’re not jealous, it is literally none of your business who I sleep with, so I’ll just pick people who don’t look like you!”

It’s happening, Oswald sees Ed’s face darkening even further and his fingers twitch at his sides. Oh, oh, this is going to be good. He’s right there, almost ready to explode.

“Since you’re not my lover, and you’re not interested, and you’re not jealous, I can sleep with all of Gotham if I care to do so! I’m just going to have to find some new guys to fuck me, if you don’t want to!”

He expects an outburst, Ed giving up, maybe even a weapon aimed at him- what he doesn’t expect is what happens next: He sees Ed jump up and a second later the man is on him, hands pulling at his shirt collar. Before he can even think of an attempt to fight back, Ed’s lips are on his.

It’s heady when Ed pushes him up against the nearest wall. Even compared to all the fantasies he’s had about this, the real thing catches him off-guard, the intensity of it, in Ed’s stare, in the way he grabs at him. While he’s had enough lonely nights or reenactments with aforementioned Ed-doubles where his fantasies were rough and greedy, for some reason or another, caught up in the more friendly moments of their past, he’s always imagined a sweet and soft first encounter. This is not that- not that he minds.

Ed kisses him with the desperation and neediness of an imprisoned man- which he guesses fits, he can relate, a decade behind bars will make anyone a stranger to themselves. And either way his brain is not exactly working on top speed at the moment, because _Ed is kissing him_.

As Oswald is mumbling “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so” against his lips, Ed keeps hissing “Shut up, shut up, shut up”, both all the while fumbling and pulling at each other- any part they can reach. Finally Oswald feels all the tension from the last days fall off his shoulders as he gives in with a sigh, followed by a stifled moan as Ed pushes his tongue past his lips. Distracted, he doesn’t even realise Ed is making quick work of unbuttoning his suit vest, then slides his hands below down to his waist, grabbing at his shirt and pulling. Oswald tangles his hands in Ed’s hair and tugs until the man groans- a noise that sends a shiver all the way down to his toes.

“You need a haircut” he whispers against Ed’s lips and feels them turn into a smile.

“You need to shut up.”

“Make me” he mumbles and returns the smile, and yes, he is definitely giddy right now, there’s no other word for it. Ed doesn’t back off even an inch, mouth still brushing Oswald’s, even as the smaller man pulls at his hair again, just to get him to make that noise again. He does, then laughs.

“How cheap” Ed breathes and tugs Oswald’s shirt free from his trousers.

“Yet still gets the job done” he says, then gasps when Ed pushes a leg between his, pressing his thigh right into Oswald’s groin, and resumes kissing him as he unbuttons Oswald’s shirt determinedly.

Oswald lets himself melt into all the emotions he’s experiencing, hyper-aware of all the places the both of them are touching, until he suddenly remembers where they are, and that there’s probably at least three other people who could be walking by any second.

He digs his fingers into Ed’s upper arms, forcing himself to push the other man away. When he sees the blush riding high on Ed’s cheekbones, he really has to fight with himself to find any semblance of a straight thought.

“What?” Ed bites, curt tone and fingers holding tight to the open placket of Oswald’s shirt.

“We should, uh… probably move this upstairs” Oswald says, already breathless, and semi-hard in his pants just from the realisation that Ed is heaving his breath as well. He can’t stop staring at Ed’s lips.

“Oh” Ed says, some form of his patented cool returning to the look in his eyes, “Right.”

They stare at each other for a few more seconds, both obviously unhappy at any interruption, then Ed takes a measured step back and Oswald has to hold down a whine when their thighs brush and then Ed’s warmth is just gone.

The man doesn’t let him go though- Ed’s determination has always been a mighty force, and seems so now, undeterred by the fact that only minutes ago he was swearing that he had no romantic interest in Oswald whatsoever.

Before Oswald can even begin to make a move on his own, Ed has his hand around his arm and is pulling him into the hallway and towards the stairs. They freeze mid-step in the hall when they notice Olga standing in the kitchen door, wiping a plate dry with a dish towel. She has one eyebrow up as she stares at them and is wearing her usual unamused frown.

“Ah, ehm. I won’t be needing anything else today, Olga, thank you” Oswald mumbles, painfully aware of how dishevelled they both must look, especially him with his clothes half undone, and how nothing gets past his maid usually anyway.

“Mhm” she answers passively and turns away, “Good night.”

“Good ni-hight” Ed chimes in a cheerful tone, then resumes tugging at Oswald’s sleeve, basically dragging him up the stairs- which is obviously not as easy a task as Ed would like, what with Oswald’s bad leg making it impossible for him to just hop up like Ed. It’s actually quite awkward, for him at least, the way Ed’s jaw is tight as if he’s trying to decide whether to be kind and not comment on the slow pace they’re going at, or just pick Oswald up and throw him over his shoulder. At the same time it's terribly attractive, how desperate he seems to move things along, how much he apparently wants to be with Oswald.

And it’s scaring Oswald, because he wants this so much as well, wants this to be real.

“Would you just calm down” he bites when they reach the upper floor, annoyed at all these emotions overwhelming him. Ed turns to him and bites right back:

“I’m afraid that’s not an option at the moment.”

He pulls on Oswald some more and Oswald gives in, because he’s smitten with Ed anyhow, leg ache at the fast pace be damned, he would be a liar if he said he didn’t want to reach his bedroom as soon as possible as well.

When they do Ed pushes him right back up against the door, chest to chest and stealing all the air from Oswald’s lungs. Then he reaches those few inches next to Oswald’s torso and locks the door, that little click sounding like a promise, like the sound of no turning back, especially with the way Ed stares straight into Oswald’s eyes as he does so.

Ed rushes impossibly closer, grabbing him by the waist and hoisting, just that tiny bit that Oswald has to push up to his toes, and he winces as another shot of pain rushes through his leg. There’s something absolutely _greedy_ flashing in Ed’s eyes when he hears him make that noise and Oswald is ashamed to admit that it turns him on beyond anything he has ever experienced. How he could ever have thought any imitation of Ed’s could hold a candle to what he’s going through getting the real thing, he doesn’t know. He’s going to faint from how aroused he is.

With a quick movement Ed’s hand closes around is throat and he can’t help but gasp. He’s so hard he’s sure Ed can feel it, up close as they are. When Oswald decides to surrender to him and tilt his head back just enough so Ed notices him giving in, his dick twitches against Ed’s thigh. Then he deliberately forces a smirk, wordlessly daring the brunette to tighten his grip. He watches as Ed’s pupils dilate, fascinated by being the cause, and Ed does add pressure, breathless himself, but only for a second, then he slides his hand down into Oswald’s open collar, flat palm against his clavicle, and pushes their foreheads together.

They both look down and watch the trail Ed takes, dragging his fingertips down Oswald’s chest- hard enough to leave pink marks on his pale skin, fading an instant later, then just ghosting further across his stomach, barely a touch, until Ed hovers just over Oswald’s belt, and Oswald can’t help squirming,almost ready to beg for more skin contact.

Ed heaves a huge sigh that startles Oswald for an instant, until he’s being kissed within an inch of his life again, and he can’t hold himself together at all anymore, because Ed is right there, smelling like Ed and feeling like Ed and oh, he’s so gone for this man, he has that sentimental notion of being able to die a happy man now.

He knows he’s making some ridiculously desperate whining sounds, holding onto the sleeves of Ed’s jacket as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to some form of clarity. It’s difficult to feel embarrassed about any of it when the apparent effect is Ed grunting and shoving his hips against Oswald’s- and Oswald gets a bout of vertigo when he feels Ed is rock hard as well.

Still kind of dizzy, he is just along for the ride when Ed breaks them apart again, grabs his shirt collar and spins him around, one fluid half turn, a push and he lands on the bed, jittery and too hot in his clothes, too cold without Ed’s body heat against him.

Ed is still staring at him, so intently it raises goose bumps all over his body, and when the brunette licks his red-bitten lips and shakes off his jacket, Oswald swears his heart stops for a second.

He swiftly tries to go along with the program, stripping out of his waist coat, vest and shirt, just as Ed toes out off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt- all the while keeping eye contact, and for a crazed moment Oswald thinks if he broke it he might wake up from the best dream of his life. Maybe he could come untouched like a teenager from only Ed’s gaze focused on him.

He shakes himself out of his stupor and makes quick work of his shoes and leg brace and when he looks back up Ed is right in front of him, tilting Oswald’s chin up and running his thumb over Oswald’s lips. Oswald is so here for this in any way, anything Ed wants, just the implication alone has his dick jumping again. When he looks up at Ed and parts his lips though, hands already reaching out, Ed pushes him back down to lie on his back.

Ed crawls up on top of him and he gets that first blissful jolt of skin contact, bare upper bodies touching and oh, erections rubbing against each other through their last layers of clothing. They make out like that and Oswald can feel his heartbeat in his throat. Ed’s teeth on his lower lip drag an absolutely filthy moan out of him, and he keeps making all those desperate, uncontrollable noises, when Ed bites along his jawline, then down his neck.

He feels like pudding, loose limbed and trembling, and all he can do is lie there and let Ed have his way with him, not that he would have it any other way, actually- he’s more than content with where this is going, only there’s a sudden unexpected panic welling up when Ed’s kisses trail down his torso. It’s too similar to a situation he’s been in with one of those boys and damn him, it’s his own fault that his memory is ruining this- he should be taking a breath and enjoying the moment, but he’s getting frantic, Ed deftly undoing his belt and fly, and then Ed’s tongue is on his hip bone and it makes him freak out, for some silly reason like that. Guilt, probably, and it’s pretty shameful, but he can’t stop himself tangling his fingers in Ed’s hair and trying to halt any further movement.

“Wait, stop, stop, stop.”

Ed does and looks up at him, brows raised and open mouth still right there on Oswald’s hip and the sight sends an inadvertent bolt of arousal through him despite himself, but he doesn’t want it like this.

“Come back here” sounds like begging, and it probably is.

Ed licks his lips and the picture is burnt into Oswald’s mind for all eternity for how it makes his heart race. He does shuffle up again and lets Oswald pull him down until their foreheads are touching though. Oswald gulps, mouth suddenly dry.

“Fuck me” he whispers and it’s not what he means, not by a long shot, but Ed seems to hear the ‘make love to me’ in it anyway, because a slow almost shy smile spreads on his face and he purrs in consent. And he kisses Oswald so gently Oswald’s heart skips a beat.

Ed pushes himself up to his knees and hops off the bed, tugs off Oswald’s trousers and socks and then stands there as he seems to search for words. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’m sure you have, erm, lubrication?”

“Oh. Yes. Bottom drawer” Oswald mumbles and feels all the blood rushing to his face. How is this the part that makes him blush, he wonders, as Ed walks around to the bedside table and takes off his glasses, puts them on top and fishes out a bottle of lube and a condom.

They’re out of their comfort zone, of course, both of them- it’s easier to fight with Ed than this, and it’s always been hard for him to be vulnerable around anyone- or naked, almost at least. Ed never seemed to mind jumping into new experiences, but Oswald is the kind of person who likes being on solid ground, usually keeps as much of his skin hidden under layers of expensive suits like he’s wearing armor. And he’s very self conscious suddenly, as he scoots up the bed and Ed climbs back on top of him.

Ed is raking his eyes over his body though as if he was dessert, and he runs his nails softly up Oswald’s thighs until they hook in the waistband of his boxer briefs, then licks his lips _again_. A tremor runs down Oswald’s spine and Ed notices, smiles up at him again, although this time it’s not as sweet as before, somewhat of that predatory glint back in Ed’s eyes.

Oswald fights down this horrifying urge to be embarrassed and raises his hips up to let Ed strip him completely. His erection bounces as it’s freed, and he feels the heat of his blush in his ears and all the way down his chest. This is ridiculous, he’s done this before, he shouldn’t be ashamed at all, but this is _Ed_ , staring and touching, palms stroking up and down Oswald’s thighs as if to calm him down.

“Relax” the bastard has the nerve to say, “You’re all wound up.”

“How can I not be” Oswald murmurs and runs his hands over his face, tries to breathe some of his nerves away, “I’ve been yearning for this for almost thirteen years.”

Somehow Ed manages to look _pleased_ at his words, the smug ass, but Oswald lets it slide because he’s also pouring some lube into his palm and then urging Oswald’s legs further apart.

“Uh, you, ehm, need-“ Oswald stammers, but Ed shushes him.

“Oswald” he says sternly, “I know what I’m doing.”

And hello there, that is his practical voice, all logic and a plan, and even that is just downright unfairly hot to Oswald, who’s already losing his mind here, so all he can manage is “Oh, okay.”

And Ed apparently really does have a plan, because he opens Oswald up as though he’s been doing this for years, patient but insistent in the way he prods and moves his fingers, and Oswald can only hold on to the sheets and whine and gasp and moan under the brunette’s methodical concentration. He has this dirty idea flash in his mind of being like this for hours, strung up and desperate from Ed’s ministrations- and he’s had a feeling Ed would be good at this, but he couldn’t have fathomed he’d be _this_ good, tenaciously dragging fingertips across his prostate gland, then thrusting gently, followed by almost cruelly persistent stretching, and repeat, thumb pressing _right there_ at his perineum and now and again dragging up to swipe along his balls. The fucking tease. Oswald’s cock is drooling all over his stomach and he’s barely getting enough air into his lungs with the way he’s panting.

Ed mumbles something under his own breath that sounds like ‘gorgeous” and Oswald thinks he might have a heart attack yet before they get any further.

“Ed” he gasps and Ed looks mesmerised as he gazes up at him, adds a third finger and curls upwards, all three pulsing right against his prostate. Oswald’s eyes roll back and his toes curl and he’s right there on the edge suddenly.

“Ed, I’m gonna…” he mumbles quickly, determined not to let this end yet, reaching blindly for Ed, who catches his arm with his free hand and simply pulls his fingers out to grab the other one. Oswald hisses from the sudden empty feeling and because he’s still trying his hardest not to come, and when he finally cools down a bit, Ed is looming over him, Oswald’s arms pinned at his sides, and Ed is staring at him as if he’d just witnessed a miracle- or discovered a new scientific formula, let’s be honest.

“Do you want…” Ed breathes and licks his lips again and yes, Oswald wants, very much so.

“U-huh.”

Ed kisses him frantically and undoes his own belt and now that he has control over his arms back, Oswald needs to touch him anywhere, everywhere- he runs his palms over Ed’s biceps, his shoulders, finally just holds on to his face to keep kissing him for as long as he can. When they part it’s only so Ed can shimmy out of his pants, socks and underwear and fumble with the condom wrapper, usually steady hands somehow over-excited. Oswald sits up to get within kissing range again and mumbles against Ed’s mouth: “Don’t need it.”

“Uh, that” Ed says between pecks and licks at each other’s lips, “that might not be such a wis-“

“Don’t care” Oswald insists petulantly and holds on to Ed’s hair, pulling him back down on top of him, and Ed gives in and drops the wrapper. He opens his mouth, but Oswald cuts him off quickly.

“If you’re going to start spewing STD statistics or anything of the sort, I will punch you.”

He knows, theoretically, that he might still regret this decision later, for other reasons, but the desire to have Ed inside him without anything else between them is stronger for now. He’s been good with his partners and Ed himself has said he hasn’t had any relations with anyone for a while, so it’s not very probable that they catch anything from each other- more so that Oswald might be uncomfortable the next day. Which he can live with, he’s sure.

Ed seems strangely challenged by Oswald’s threat of physical violence, and retaliates by hoisting his legs up by the knees, making Oswald give an embarrassing little squeal as Ed moves his hips, rubbing his erection against Oswald’s perineum once, twice. Apparently he’s not convinced about the angle though and he tells Oswald to lift up so he can push a pillow under his hips.

All technicalities out of the way, he hooks his hands under Oswald’s knees again and lines his dick up. There’s something welling up in Oswald’s chest again, something huge that threatens to overcome him, even as Ed is fumbling for the bottle again and coating himself with lube. The sight makes Oswald’s brain shut down.

Ed isn’t waiting for him to recover though, he’s pushing until the head of his cock slips in, and Oswald moans, this is really happening right now, and Ed goes back to holding up his thighs so he can rock all the way in with a steady rhythm, impatient. Oswald has to hold onto Ed’s forearms, and he thinks he leaves some scratches there as he tries to remember how to do this, breathe, let him in.

And that’s really what does it, this clarity that Ed is _in him_ and he’s been wanting this, he _wants_ this so bad. They both gasp when Ed bottoms out and Oswald feels weightless, floating on a cloud of endorphins and adrenaline, and he can’t help but get overwhelmed by it.

“Oh my God” he positively _whimpers_ and throws his arm across his face in a desperate attempt to hide from the onslaught of emotion that washes over him. He’s actually tearing up.

“Are… are you okay?” Edward asks and he sounds breathless and vulnerable, just the way Oswald feels.

“No. Yes, it’s just… it’s _you_ …” he mumbles, jumping when Ed grabs a hold of his arm.

“Heh” the brunette breathes and pulls until he can see Oswald’s face.

“It is me, isn’t it” he says nonsensically, getting a laugh out of Oswald- and as teary-eyed and stunned as he might be, it breaks some of this tension in him.

Ed smiles at him and Oswald has to pull him down and kiss him again, and they stay like that when Ed starts moving, even with the awkward angle, even with Oswald’s leg objecting to the position.

It’s just too delicious to lick the groans directly out of Ed’s mouth, and leave his own yelps there in return. Ed’s fingers are in his hair, stroking almost lovingly, and Oswald wonders if he _did_ die and this is heaven- not that he’d ever expected to end up there.

After a while Ed seems to get frustrated with the limited movement and moves back onto his knees and oh, that angle changes everything. Oswald hisses when Ed finds that perfect spot and the brunette grins at him, keeps his thrusts aimed there and doesn’t even flinch when Oswald claws his nails into his thighs. It’s all he manages to do- hold on and arch his back and try not to feel ridiculous about the constant stream of moans leaving his mouth.

Ed keeps his gaze concentrated on Oswald’s face and he wants to hide from that intensity, but he also wants to see this- Ed’s chaotic hair going all curly with sweat and falling into his eyes as they go darker and he speeds up his motions. He hikes Oswald’s bad leg over his shoulder and leans forward a bit, and if that image alone wasn’t enough to drive him crazy, the added pressure on every thrust has Oswald seeing stars. He’s whining again- mewling actually, and he’s a goner when Ed reaches down and touches his cock. It takes perhaps five strokes, timed with the movement of Ed’s hips, and he’s coming, a flurry of twitches and yelps until he’s oversensitive, grabbing at Ed’s hand and staring at the ceiling with blurry vision.

He doesn’t complain about Ed keeping his fast pace, even though every move the brunette makes feels like a live wire touching him now- he’s just whimpering and reaching out for Ed to lean back down. There are tears in his eyes again that he tries to blink away, keeping Ed’s face close, because he _needs_ to see Ed come.

“I love you” he can’t help but whisper and Ed looks at him so darkly a lesser man would have mistaken it for hate. But Ed moans and tenses up, closes his eyes and looks almost in pain for a second, then he shivers and his movements stop. It’s strange, Oswald’s gone a bit numb down there, but he can still sort of feel Ed coming in him and it’s the weirdest feeling in the world, but he’s paying more attention to Ed’s face, going all soft and finally hiding against Oswald’s neck. Ed’s gasps against his skin are cool and soothing and he reciprocates by running his nails across Ed’s scalp absent-mindedly.

There’s a sort of serenity that falls over Oswald, until his nerves kick back in when Ed pulls out and rolls off him with a groan, lying next to him and panting at the ceiling. Is this the part where Ed goes into regret mode and tells him this has been it?

“Okay” Ed huffs, sounding almost too calm and collected aside from his rapid breath, “You win.”

Oswald is dumbstruck for a second, then he can’t hold down a laugh. Ed turns his face towards him and smiles, eyes gone tender and fond.

“I’d be tempted to say we both won” Oswald says, his voice hoarse.

Ed grins.

“You know what?” Oswald continues, pressing his luck because he’s too high, and too bold, and nothing can harm him now, not even if Ed gets mad at him again. Let him, in fact, it would probably be fun to fight and reconcile. Ed hums questioningly.

“I still think Isabella was some sort of clone.”

Ed scoffs at him as if he cannot believe Oswald has gone there right now, and Oswald has to laugh again, unable to hold back his grin.

“Some kind of Hugo Strange experiment, you know th-“

“Oswald” Ed says completely sober, but also not exactly mad, so Oswald counts it as a win, “Drop it.”

Oswald is positively giggling and Ed is still staring in disbelief, but also fighting with a smile.

And half an hour later, when Oswald has gone through his bedtime routine and begrudgingly tried to clean up what a condom could have saved him from, he falls asleep in Ed’s embrace, and he’s sure he’s never felt so calm- might have been all the stress falling from his shoulders, or the screw of his life, but he thinks it’s pretty safe to say it has something to do with the brunette clinging to him all smitten and sated. Definitely the best day of his life, and would he not have doubted that just a few hours ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> placket. cheezuz the things u have to look up when u write porn scenes. i am a fking tailor but i don’t know the english words for stuffs boobadiboo yeah english is not my first language btw xD shirt placket. the more you know. hope that’s the right word.xD  
> questioningly also seems like a weird word xD go to bed, me!  
> actually scratch the whole trying to go by canon thing btw, I’ve realised there are a lot of things that don’t add up here, screw it- this is my fic, I am God! muhahahaha  
> so this is it, huh, planned 2 chaps turned into 4 well sry >.>  
> halfway done with the last one tho, so i hope i'll be able to post tomorrow, but it's too late for my brain rn, so I'm going to bed~


	4. Origami Waddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hm, you stay night?” she asks passively, and Edward grins sweetly at her. Oswald thinks any normal person would have averted her gaze, but Ed seems to revel in the eye contact.  
> “As a matter of fact, I did” he says and Oswald thinks he even puffs out his chest. He is going to die from embarrassment after all.  
> Olga narrows her eyes at Ed for a second, then nods.  
> “Good. Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew i’m done yay, isn’t it always when you sit down to write porn that suddenly your brother wants you to cut his hair, or you get a visit from your sister in law and your little nephew and all those things that you don’t want to say no to (cuz baby nephew is the literal cutest), but they are time consuming xD  
> and also omg I know I said I’d be done quickly and post this soon, but fuuuuuck me today was one of those days where I could have just slept all day x_x i wonder if it’s just spring (yeah i always get super exhausted at the beginning of spring, i dunno what’s wrong with me) i am literally the ballad of me and my brain by 1975 today. so I guess sry for any sentences that don’t make sense or whatever xD  
> yeah so even more tho, there u go xD wanted to make this an epilogue but even this ran away with me x_x I just can’t get mornings after out of my head apparently, so here it is. also, origami penguin is the love of my life. that was the moment this ship really hit me. <3<3<3

When Oswald wakes up, he’s hazy- super comfortable but also confused. This isn’t how he usually feels in the mornings- he’s so warm, and there’s a gentle continual movement at his back, and a weight across his torso. His heavy curtains block most of the early sun, but a sliver of light is tickling his nose and eyelid, which is probably what roused him in the first place.

He blinks a few times until it hits him and then he’s wide awake, staring at his own hand, fingers lazily intertwined with someone else’s- Ed’s, his tired brain supplies. The gentle rocking behind him is Ed breathing, the weight atop him Ed’s arm and oh, there’s other parts all snuggled up against him as well- chest to groin to thigh all the way down to Ed’s toes that are now slowly running back and forth across the pad of his foot.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Edward’s voice sounds raspy and deep, lazy and all kinds of delicious and easy.

“G-good morning” Oswald stammers, still trying to catch up with reality.

“You slept well, huh?” Ed drawls, drawing the tip of his nose across Oswald’s nape and leaving goosebumps in his wake, “I didn’t get much sleep, couldn’t get my brain to stop mulling things over.”

Uh-oh, that’s never a good sign, is it, Oswald thinks for a desperate moment, but then Ed sounds so content, and he’s still cuddling him, so close actually that Oswald can feel Ed’s morning wood against his butt cheek. He’s not sure whether to panic or turn to jello.

Ed gives a sluggish, content little moan, and Oswald is definitely completely alert now, focused on every inch of bare skin between the two of them, still nude underneath the sheets.

“I feel at ease” Ed continues, easy as pie, “It’s as if some… question has been at the back of my mind all this time, and I finally got the answer to it.”

Oswald can _feel_ Ed’s smile against a delicious spot beneath his ear, and can’t hold down a giggle.

“You are such a sap” he accuses and Ed squeezes him even harder.

“Oh, _I_ am the sap between the two of us.”

Ed _bites_ at the spot gently, and Oswald mewls quietly, squirming and instantly turned on, though his brain is still only waking up, his body has apparently skipped ahead. Ed is peppering kisses all along his neck and shoulder now and lets go of Oswald’s hand in favour of placing his own on the smaller one's waist.

“I’ve always liked your freckles” he mumbles in between pecks on them and Oswald feels the heat rising to his cheeks. Compliments will get you everywhere, unsure of the truth behind them as he always might be, painfully aware of his own insecurities. But Ed has usually been honest in his praises, even when they hadn’t been on good terms.

“It’s actually quite fascinating- that hair color, along with that eye color, and that complexion. What an odd mix of genetics” Ed states, and sounds strangely happy about it. It takes Oswald only a second to decide he won’t be wrecking his brain over that statement. He’s long since given up trying to figure out what is going on in Ed’s head.

“Is this your attempt at flirting?” he mumbles, tilting his head in invitation for Ed to go back to that spot beneath his ear.

“Maybe” Ed laughs under his breath and does go there, lips only teasing at first, then slowly working up to what will probably turn into a love bite, Oswald wonders and enjoys every second of it. It’s almost as if that spot had a direct line to his dick and he’s soon raking his fingers through Ed’s hair, trying to keep him there, while the man runs his fingers down his belly and wraps them around Oswald’s erection, all lazy and explorative, and Oswald is gone, gone, gone, squirming and whining and body so lax in Ed’s embrace he’s not sure his muscles will ever work normally again.

He feels unbearable sadness when Ed backs off slightly, but at least it’s only to pull at him until he’s lying on his back and Ed can place a kiss onto his lips.

“Hi there” Ed says, up so close, smiling broadly, and that’s really contagious, a happy Ed.

“Hey” Oswald answers, voice shaky because Ed is still palming his dick.

Ed laughs quietly at him and dips his head to mouth at his jugular notch, then his chest, finally latching onto a nipple. Oswald’s toes curl and uncurl with each swipe of his tongue, every bit of suction, and his own precum makes the motions of Ed’s fingers on his dick just that much more easy and enjoyable. When his breathing is starting to get irregular and forceful, Ed apparently decides to move further down his body, and before Oswald’s sleepy brain even understands where this is going, he notices how every inch of warm blanket and warm Ed on him is slowly lost to the cool air of the room around him.

Ed seems to get caught up and hesitate at the bullet scar on his stomach he’d caused himself, but before Oswald finds the brain cells to get emotional about it, the brunette moves on down. And then Ed’s hand is joined by a wet touch of tongue on the tip of his dick, and he gasps and can’t help but hold his breath in, looking down in confusion and surprise. Ed is smirking up at him, lips _only hairs_ away from his erection.

“You wouldn’t let me last night” Ed drawls, and for reasons he can only describe as purely vile and nasty, he kind of wishes Ed was wearing his glasses.

“But I really want to.”

And Ed is staring into his eyes as he licks a deliberate line from the base of Oswald’s balls all the way up to the tip of his dick. Oswald’s brain is definitely fried and permanently damaged now.

The mattress is making a weird noise as he digs his fingers into it and then he can’t really hear anything over his own moans, because Ed is going down and this is how he’s going to die.

After all they’d done the night before, it shouldn’t be such a shock to his system, but it’s so obscene to see Ed’s lip wrapped around his cock, and the way he seems to enjoy it, making Oswald lose anything that was left of his mind, until he really can’t watch anymore, though he wants to. He’s letting his eyelids droop and his head fall back and he’s arching off the bed so Ed has to hold him down by the hips, and then he feels Ed pop off for a second. That blessed warmth returns to his dick and is joined by a wet finger worming its way inside of him and he thought he knew bliss until Ed curls up his digit and _sucks_.

Ed is not exactly an expert at this, Oswald has surely had better fellatio experiences the last month from a purely technical stand point, but none of that compares to him zoning out about the mere fact that this is _Ed_ doing this to him. For a moment he can’t even make any noise, strung up so tightly he thinks he might pass out, until his body sucks in a gasp and he’s right back to all those sounds that will embarrass him when he thinks back on this later, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

He’s done in probably under a minute, falling apart between Ed’s mouth and hand, and he doesn’t understand the world anymore as he watches, boneless and helpless, as Ed swallows and then licks his lips again, watching him with a smug and greedy satisfaction, as if he knew he’s gotten away with something he shouldn’t have. As far as Oswald is concerned, he should get away with that every time, probably every morning for the rest of their lives.

Ed crawls up the bed again and gives him a lazy kiss and hey that’s weird, smelling and tasting himself on someone else’s breath, but he’ll take it if it means Ed will keep kissing him.

“Good?” Ed murmurs and Oswald scoffs.

“Screw you, you know it was.”

Ed laughs quietly and he still looks so handsome when he smiles honestly, even with his crazed hair and now that Oswald has half a mind to notice, circles under his eyes. He really wasn’t lying about not getting much sleep, was he. He seems very awake though, especially when Oswald runs his fingertips down Ed’s chest and stomach to finally get a bit of his own exploring in.

When he wraps a palm around Ed’s dick and scratches the pads of his fingers across his balls, Ed gasps and his eyes fall close.

“What do you want me to-“ Oswald starts and Ed shakes his head.

“Won’t last long” he mumbles and resumes kissing Oswald, fingers in the smaller one’s hair, brushing along his scalp, “Just like this.”

He does come soon after Oswald has established a steady rhythm, and it’s a wonder all over again, watching Ed orgasm when he’s all mellow and sweet, and it’s also ridiculously erotic to feel him come all over Oswald’s stomach, but he’s also not 15 anymore, so this is it for now, his enjoyment of Ed melting against him mostly psychological- well, and emotional.

After a minute of Ed catching his breath and a ridiculously sweet amount of exhausted cuddling, Ed leans up on his elbows over him, once again wearing that honey smile that makes Oswald’s chest tighten up.

“I’m going to take a shower” he hears himself say and he knows it’s an instinctual attempt to flee, because he’s still not exactly sure that he’s not just lost his mind and is fantasising again- the way he’d been forced to back when he had been at Arkham for the first time.

Ed’s smile broadens.

“Can I come?”

Oswald’s mind goes into image overload when he pictures the two of them in the shower, and apparently he’s finally awake enough to reason with himself, and hopefully Ed as well. He’s fully on board with the other man cleaning up, let’s face it, he still looks like this hasn’t been his first sleepless night this week, but Oswald is also getting overwhelmed already with all this frankly domestic bliss, and he doesn’t know how he will be able to keep anything together if he doesn’t get a few moments for himself now.

“Uh, Ed, as… wonderful as that sounds, I, ehm…”

Ed puts his hands up and he’s glad he doesn’t have to find a way to explain his thinking.

“Say no more. Do you want to go first?”

Oswald is wondering again, about how everything suddenly got so simple since last evening.

“Ah, I don’t… no, go ahead- I’ll find you something to wear.”

Ed stares at him as if he’s the bee’s knees, and it will probably never not make his heart race instantly.

“Oaky-doke.”

With a smile Ed pecks him on his nose and then jumps out of bed and grabs his glasses, and isn’t that a sight, a naked Ed hopping to the adjoining bathroom merrily. How did his life suddenly turn into this?

He’s glad he has a few minutes to breathe and think about last night as well, oh and this morning. Actually, it might not be such a good idea to overthink this, he reasons with himself, and blushes when he prods at Ed’s come, drying and sticky on his belly. Best to just enjoy this, for however long he will be graced with it lasting.

As the water starts running next door, he also hears Ed humming a tune in there, and he can’t help but smile. He gets up and manages to feel fluffy and groggy at the same time, while he throws on his bathrobe and goes fishing through his wardrobe for some pyjamas from a few months ago. When he finds a pair that might suffice, he hears the water stop running, and walks over to the bathroom. It’s strange, having the urge to knock on your own bathroom door, so he doesn’t, just steps right in and is greeted by the sight of Ed in a bath towel and running a comb through his wet hair. He looks better already, just with _that_ problem out of the way, although Oswald still thinks his hairstyle is out of control.

Ed just keeps _smiling that smile_ at him and puts on his glasses, as Oswald holds out the clothes.

“They might be a bit short, but I think they will work” he says and still feels like he’s in the wrong movie somehow.

“I’m sure they’re fine” Ed laughs and takes them from him, leaving both standing there awkwardly, or rather Oswald feels awkward while Ed seems to be over the moon and right at home in this new scenario.

“Right, ehm, are you finished, or-…?”

“Oz” Ed says and that’s new too, but also alluring, to hear Ed use a nickname for him. The brunette steps in close and tilts his head up with a hand at his chin.

Oswald feels like a teenager for the way his heart still aches whenever Ed locks gazes with him. He holds his breath when Ed leans down and leaves a lasting peck on his lips.

“Thank you” Ed mumbles, mouths still brushing, and then just walks out of the bathroom.

Okay, so this is his life now. It takes Oswald a while to get himself together and wash up, but about 20 minutes later, they’re both on the way downstairs, Ed in Oswald’s dark tartan pyjamas that are an unintended 3/4 on his long legs, and himself in simple black ones, with his bathrobe up top.

They run into Olga at the base of the stairs and Oswald is sure he’s blushing again as his maid runs her piercing stare across Edward, who’s still smiling like he’s won the lottery.

“Hm, you stay night?” she asks passively, and Edward grins sweetly at her. Oswald thinks any normal person would have averted her gaze, but Ed seems to revel in the eye contact.

“As a matter of fact, I did” he says and Oswald thinks he even puffs out his chest. He is going to die from embarrassment after all.

Olga narrows her eyes at Ed for a second, then nods.

“Good. Finally” she says and Oswald can only stare at her with his mouth wide open, “Coffee?”

“I would love coffee, thank you” Ed states, and leads Oswald into his own dining room with a hand on the small of his back, Oswald still watching Olga as she returns to the kitchen. There’s a hidden camera here somewhere, just has to be.

He still can’t think straight when Olga comes in with a hot pot and fills up their cups, and Edward is taunting him by just acting like this is all an everyday occurrence to him, smiling at Olga and thanking her, and enjoying himself.

“I thought you didn’t like coffee” Edward notes as he sips his, and raises his eyebrows at Oswald, who shakes himself out of his stupor.

“I don’t like bad coffee.”

“Hm” Ed nods, “That _is_ good coffee.”

He shoots Oswald a broad smile again and Oswald wonders where all this homicidal rage and animalistic aggression from last night went all of a sudden, how Ed can just switch from mood to mood like that, but then again, Oswald thinks he’s probably the same, emotions ruled by circumstance.

They eat breakfast in relative quiet, Oswald trying to refrain from watching Ed like he’s some kind of tamed circus animal, while the brunette skims over the morning paper Olga has left them with, now and again snickering or scoffing at one article or another. When Olga comes in with Oswald’s mail, she raises an eyebrow at Ed, and Oswald follows her stare to finally notice some deep scratches he has left on Ed’s forearms. She doesn’t comment though and as breathless as Oswald suddenly turns with shame, he also figures that she already knew anyway, so what the heck.

He clears his throat and tries to focus on his business, reading through the letters and ignoring all the noises and movements Edward makes on the table next to him. If he gets any more infatuated with the man he won’t be able to get anything done, and after all his big night is only a few days away. As far as he can tell everything is in order for the Lounge opening, and he apparently even managed to gain some financial interest during the last two days, where he hasn’t really had any nerve to focus on his assets at all.

Calmer and always satisfied at business being good, he feels a bit more like himself when he puts away the last letter and returns to the rest of his coffee. He freezes with the cup midway to his mouth though and wonders at the sight on the table before him.

Ed has apparently taken to turning all the discarded envelopes of Oswald’s mail into origami, an army of paper animals that are now all lined up on the table top, beaks in Oswald’s direction. As Oswald is staring Ed is working on ripping the newspaper to make more.

“What are you doing?” Oswald says, voice flat and he’s embarrassed to admit- still raw from being overused last night.

“It’s a waddle” Ed mumbles happily, and keeps folding a square piece of newspaper.

“It’s a what now?”

“A group of penguins on land is called a waddle” Ed states and runs the back of his fingernail over a paper edge, “Because they waddle. Cute, isn’t it?”

Now Oswald is well sure he’s gone absolutely mad. This has to be a fever dream, he thinks, being watched by at least 20 paper penguins.

“I hate you” he states and takes a sip of coffee because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“No, you don’t” Ed says, sounding giddy as he puts his latest creation right up front, standing there looking over Oswald’s empty plate with empty newspaper eyes.

“Get out of my house” Oswald tells him, staring right back at the little creature.

“No, I won’t.”

Ed gets up halfway, scoots his chair closer to Oswald, and sits back down, arms leaning on the edge of the table, head leaning on his palm- and he still looks so satisfied and calm it’s almost eerie.

“So, what’s your plan for the day” he asks and stares right into Oswald’s eyes with that intense inquiry that always manages to make the Penguin want to squirm.

“I have to go see to the club, you know, work out any last details before opening night” he says and he thinks he sounds a bit breathless even now, feels scrutinised under Ed’s gaze and, surreally, also the _waddle’s_.

“Oh, right. The _vernissage_. Can I come?” Ed asks and throws him a face that could almost just pass as innocent. Oswald is reminded of Ed using the same phrase only an hour ago in regards to a shower.

“Edward, again, you are literally an asylum escapee at the moment.”

“Well, yes, but how about the afterparty?” Ed says, voice gone deep and low, and scooting his chair even closer to Oswald.

“There’s no planned afterparty” Oswald breathes, seduced into the same quiet tone.

“So it’s going to be a private afterparty then” Ed smiles impishly, and here we go again, Oswald thinks as his heart skips a beat. For a moment nothing exists except Ed’s deep dark green eyes.

“Sure, why not” he mumbles, half laughing, and holds his breath when Ed leans forward and kisses him, murmuring “It’s a date” against his lips.

When they part he heaves a big sigh and he thinks, even if this is a hallucination, or maybe especially if it is, he’s going to enjoy it as long as he can, because he has never felt this excited and at ease at the same time, and he might never get used to this storm of emotions, but he also cannot help but enjoy it.

“I’ll get you a suit” he murmurs, still up close to Edward’s smiling mouth.

“Don’t worry, I do have some clothes.”

Oswald scoffs.

“You just don’t use them.”

“Hey now” Edward laughs, bumping his forehead against Oswald’s teasingly, “I’ve been preoccupied with things other than my wardrobe.”

“Yes, apparently” Oswald growls and narrows his eyes at the idiot, “Like killing my lovers, hm?”

There’s a flash of that darkness back in Ed’s eyes, even as he keeps grinning at Oswald. Then he shrugs and leans back in his chair, surely noticing how Oswald’s body follows his until Oswald controls himself and stays in his place, staring and waiting for Edward’s response.

“That’s all behind us now though, is it not?" Edward grins and as much as Oswald has a notion to fight back, he choses to let it go. After all, if this is actually real, he’s gotten all he’s wanted for almost as long as he’s known Edward, and he feels there’s going to be more than enough trouble in their future even without them fighting. For now, their biggest obstacle might just be keeping Ed hidden from the law and the bat, and really Oswald is already scared for how little they might get the chance to see each other, so he decides to make nice as long as he has Ed all to himself.

“In any case, I have quite a few things planned for the Batman anyway” Ed chimes in cheerfully, tapping his fingers on the table, and the origami army trembles with the motion, “You go attend to your club and I will return to my little projects. I have a lot of work to do.”

Ed is like a new man now, all giddy excitement, and while it is nice to feel like Oswald has had a part in bringing him back to a more focused form of himself, Ed also seems frantic again, mind already three steps ahead on his next task instead of with him and all the things Oswald still wants to do with him, say to him, hear from him. And it stings, as much as Oswald can relate to the obsession about the bat.

But he’s proven wrong when they say their goodbyes, back in his bedroom and changing into their suits- Ed back in his shabby old green one, but looking more put together already just because his still damp hair is combed behind his ears. And he’s being kissed again, so much, so sweetly, so _domestic_ he can’t help but call it, and he can’t exactly hide how his heart yearns for this- wishes he could keep Ed here, not hiding away across town.

Yet part they have to, and as Oswald watches Ed sneak out the back door and hopes he will even make it back to the apartment safely, Oswald is holding on to the thought of the day after tomorrow, the night after his opening, the next time they are set to meet again.

He’s pulled out of his bittersweet reverie by Olga, who is almost urging him out of the kitchen, and as he does leave to get ready for his meetings, he turns once more to her.

“You know what- send an invitation to commissioner Gordon” he tells her, trying to focus on the Iceberg Lounge and his plans for it, “With his old friend Wayne back in town, we invited him already, I’m sure Jim will pop by.”

“ _Da_.”

Olga nods and all but throws the dish rag at him to get him out.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so hear me out, I know Pengy’s put on some and that is usually how he should appear during Bat-times and stuff- now I don’t wanna start a whole body positivity war here, if curvy Penguin is your thing, good for you :) there’s a lotta fanfics out there (good ones too, i’ve read them :P) but then this one is probably not the one for you  
> I dunno, I think it’s just that obviously I got into this ship with Pengy and Riddler as they are portrayed in the show, so that is how I kinda imagine them when I think of this ship. (also maybe cuz I’m a 90s kid, curvy Pengy will always be Danny DeVito in my head and, while I know he was supposed to be gross in the movie, well… he’s really gross in the movie xD hey, I know, there’s a kink for everyone, I don’t judge, but it really doesn’t do anything for me…*shivers)  
> so yeah, Robin kinda lanky Pengy it is here. now I have this weird thing where I try to make fanfics work with what the canon has given us as much as possible, so there will be an actual (kinda) reasoning as to why he lost the weight again xD sue me  
> I guess if that triggers you, you have been warned.  
> just here to write some stoopid fanfic that might amuse someone, so again- don’t mean to upset anyone, but this is this ship in my head. don’t like, don’t read.  
> phew. overly explained trigger warnings done. xD
> 
> oh and uh, as far as Ed- now I’m no psychologist and I think things you see in a show from a character’s point of view are always a little unreliable, so I ain’t gonna try to explain Ed, but I’ve read a lotta fics where he’s still unstable, a lotta fics where he’s two complete different personalities in one, etc etc.  
> now I’m kinda in between on whether The Riddler is his own separate identity, or just a sorta personalisation of Ed’s darker thoughts and wants (if that makes sense)- but I’ve also read a few fics where (set during later seasons or after the show) he’s basically full on changed to that “Riddler-personality” and at least in this fic- this is not the case. to me it always kinda felt like over the course of the show the two sides of him just kinda blended together and combined slowly, and I kinda like this idea of him best- that as soon as he accepted both his for lack of a better word personalities, he became one personality, that has the sorta flamboyance and self confidence of Riddler, but also that odd nerdiness and sweetness of Ed.  
> hope that makes sense in some way xD  
> now they both got a huge ass trigger warning paragraph ain’t that nice xD  
> I think I’m done. kill me. buhbye


End file.
